


How The Light Gets In

by wewriteletters



Category: Prodigal Son (TV 2019)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Blood, Canon-Typical Violence, Family, Flashbacks, Found Family, Gen, Gunshot Wounds, Hospitals, Hurt/Comfort, Malcolm Bright Needs a Hug, Memories, Non-Graphic Violence, Past Suicide Attempt, Shooting, Whump, no actual character death (but a lot of talk of it), yes I wrote this instead of studying for finals don't @ me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-12
Updated: 2019-12-30
Packaged: 2021-02-26 01:01:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21764938
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wewriteletters/pseuds/wewriteletters
Summary: Malcolm should have known something was wrong when he felt so comfortable waking up.Or, Malcolm is shot, and when he regains some awareness, assumes the worst. Luckily, there might just be a light at the end of the tunnel.
Relationships: Gil Arroyo & Malcolm Bright, Malcolm Bright & Ainsley Whitly, Malcolm Bright & Dani Powell, Malcolm Bright & Jessica Whitly
Comments: 46
Kudos: 241





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> SO this was supposed to be a one shot but it was getting longer than I wanted it to be and the first half of the story is pretty different in both tone and writing style so I figured I'd split them up (which is fun because the only reason I wrote this is I wanted to do some Malcolm whump without committing to a multi chapter thing lol). Anyway, the second chapter is about half done already so hopefully it won't be long. That chapter is also where the other characters tagged appear, I wasn't sure if I tagged them now or waited till then so I just went ahead and did it sorry if that's not right. God I talk to much in these notes smh...hope you enjoy!

Malcolm should have known something was wrong when he felt so comfortable waking up. 

He couldn’t remember the last time that had happened. Even on the rare occasions he was able to sleep without being awakened by a night terror, he never felt at ease when he woke up. It was always filled with a sense of anxiety, of quiet sadness, of the exhaustion that never left him. Like he always woke up in a fog that was impossible to breath around. He would feel simultaneously numb and over stimulated; his restraints would be too heavy and tight, his mouth guard would taste like bile, and even his 1000 thread count Egyptian cotton sheets would seem more like sandpaper. He would describe it as anything other than a comfortable awakening. 

But it was different now. There was still a vague feeling of numbness, but it was also accompanied by warmth and even serenity. It was like he was floating. Malcolm had never been a huge fan of being in water for that exact reason; he didn’t like being weightless, like he wasn’t tethered down to anything. He needed some kind of connection to hold him to solid grown while the world moved around him. But this feeling of floating somehow filled him with a deep sense of calmness. Everything was still around him, he could just let go and trust that the water (or was it air?) he drifted in would keep him safe. For the first time in a while, Malcolm felt like he was actually at peace. 

Which meant something was definitely awry.

At first Malcolm wasn’t even thinking. He could only feel these sensations, his brain taking a much needed break from always being on edge. But slowly his awareness of these feelings turned into logical thoughts. Where was he? What was happening?

He felt his eyes flicker open, but there was nothing to see. The world was completely black. Malcolm tried squeezing his eyes shut and opening them again, but nothing changed. He began to blink faster. It was still the color of night, only without the stars or even the lights of Manhattan to add any specks of brightness. The rational part of his brain that was slowly recovering knew something must be wrong and it urged Malcolm to actually try to figure out what was happening. But it still seemed impossible to feel anything other than relief in the tranquil state he was in. 

Still, Malcolm attempted to look back through his mind, trying to remember where he was. If it was a dream, it was unlike any he had ever had. Maybe his brain had decided the best way to torment him was to ease him into a false sense of security before going in to just another night terror. The thought made Malcolm close his eyes once more, worry beginning to seep through his mind. What if next time he opened his eyes, he would be met with the face of the girl in the box or the face of his father, wearing a red sweater and illuminated by police lights, telling him they were the same. 

Malcolm couldn’t remember falling asleep, but that hardly meant anything. Although he tried his best not to let himself doze off, lest he repeat the incident with Dani at the precinct, sometimes his body just reached the end of its ability to stay awake and shut down on him. And he had been at the police station before this, hadn’t he? No, he had been earlier, he remembered JT making a comment about how overdressed he always was, before Dani rolled her eyes and told him he was one to talk about fashion, but they had all left shortly after. They were working on a case, a serial killer. Or was it a double homicide? Maybe it had been drug related, or a crime of passion. 

The details eluded him, but he began remembering where they had gone to. He, Dani, JT, and Gil, they had all gone to the house of a suspect. Or a victim's family member. Or a witness. Was it even a house? Malcolm recalled the scent of rust and the sound of water dripping somewhere far away, the droplets ringing out in a metallic clink that vibrated like pennies in a tin cup. At first it was the only noise he heard. 

Then there were footsteps. 

Malcolm wasn’t supposed to be there, he and Gil were supposed to stay together, while Dani and JT went off...somewhere else. He couldn’t remember where Gil had sent them, but he knew the two of them were going to talk to someone. The case they were working on was coming to him piece by piece, random crime scene photos and names flickering across his mind like a slideshow, but he still couldn’t connect them together in any coherent fashion. 

It was dark there too. Malcolm had turned around when he heard steps. Maybe he said something. Maybe he tried to talk the person down. Or maybe he just stood paralyzed and speechless. 

Visions of a shadowy figure holding a gun flashed through Malcolm’s brain, the person's silhouette etched out from the darkness he saw. And suddenly, the memories began pouring out, slipping through the cracks in his mind.

He had been shot. Malcolm didn’t remember who the shooter was or even if he’d seen him. But the immediate aftermath was completely clear. He hit his head hard when he fell and it hurt more than the actual bullet did, at least at first. For a moment he was too shocked to do anything. As if there was anything he could have done. 

Malcolm had been hit in the chest. He couldn’t breathe, every time he tried to it felt like hot needles were being stabbed through his lung tissue, leaving the air slowly draining out. He was choking on his own blood, the same blood that was now pooling around him, seeping through the thick wool of his coat and dying his white shirt red. 

He had tried to yell for help. He knew that because he remembered the absolute agony it caused him and he remembered that he didn’t care. His throat and lungs were collapsing in on themselves and so much blood was filling his mouth he was forced to swallow it, but he just kept screaming. Gil had to be somewhere close. He shouldn’t have gone off on his own, why did he go off on his own? 

Malcolm only stopped when his throat completely gave in. He’d felt like it’d cracked in half. His screams hadn’t been loud, but now he could only get out gasps. And even those gasps were fleeting. 

In the final moments, every sensation began to dull, one by one. First, the stabbing in his chest melted away, then the pounding in his head, followed by the ache in his throat until all that Malcolm was aware of was just the metallic taste of blood. 

And then he shut his eyes. 

The sudden vividness of it all shot through Malcolm like another bullet. The realized finally came to Malcolm, washing over him like a freezing wave, taking with it any of the warmth and serenity that had remained. He was dead. He died on that floor, from blood loss or whatever kind of internal injury he endured, or maybe just because his body was so tired and it just wanted to sleep. And Malcolm realized just how terrified he was. 

Malcolm didn’t want to be dead. He didn’t want to die. He thought he did, for a long time. He remembered being seventeen, pouring out every bottle of medication he had, feeling even more horrible and broken at the sight of how large the pile was, and taking them by the handful until he felt too sick to continue. It was a sudden decision, the climax of feeling so scared and lonely and sad for the past six years and just wanting the world to stop, and he hadn’t planned well. His door was unlocked and it was only the late evening, his mother and sister were still awake. Ainsely found him, probably only a short while after he passed out because the doctors at the ER were able to save him. Malcolm could never bring himself to try again after that, not after he saw the look on Jackie’s face as he laid in the hospital bed.

A large part of him still wanted to die even after that, but it had slowly been fading. When he was at the FBI, and away from his father, he actually felt like his life had a purpose, a meaning. And he felt that way when he began working with the NYPD, working with Gil, the whole team. He knew the thoughts would never go away and he knew at least part of the reason he always flung himself into danger was because he didn’t value his life as much as he should. But now as the realization came to him, there was no relief. He was just scared, lonely, and horribly sad.

If this was the after life, he didn’t know what to make of it. Malcolm never put much stock in religion but he didn’t rule out the possibility that there was something out there after a person dies. In his profession, the thought of victims finding some kind of peace after their death was a nice one to have, but it never took away the tragedy of their passing, the unfairness that another person had the ability to so easily take the life of someone who never did anything to deserve it. When Malcolm was younger, he was convinced the ghosts of his fathers victims were going to haunt him and that he would deserve it. That had been another reason he had wanted to die for so long; maybe his father should finally feel even a fraction of the pain his victims families felt.

So was this Heaven? Malcolm recalled the feelings of bliss he had awoken to, but those feelings were long gone, replaced by his mind slowly unraveling and releasing every pent up emotion as it went. If this was Hell, it had figured out the perfect way to torture Malcolm; just leave him alone with his thoughts.

He found his chest tightening against the weight of it all, and he instinctively tried to do the breathing techniques Gabrielle had taught him for when he had an anxiety attack. But was he even breathing? If he was dead he couldn’t be breathing. Honestly he couldn’t tell. He felt everything but somehow he couldn’t even tell if he was breathing. He couldn’t bring his arm up to his chest, he couldn’t even feel his limbs. 

Malcolm tried his best to tried to calm himself. None of this felt real anymore. He frantically attempted blinking again, hoping against hope that after one of the tries his eyes would open to Gil sitting across from him at the conference table in the precinct, scolding him for phasing out during a case.

He was going to miss Gil so much. Every word he wanted to say the man but never did suddenly surrounded him. He remembered that after they solved the drug case, the one where Malcolm had accidentally gotten high, Gil mentioned offhandedly what he had said to him while in that state. About how Gil filled the void left by his father and how he showed him what a good man looks like. His tone was joking, like he was just listing one more funny thing he had done while inebriated, like the stories about wanting to make grilled cheese Dani told to him. But even then Malcolm recognized the quiet desperation. He wanted Malcolm to say he had meant it. 

And Malcolm had laughed. Diverted Gil’s comment with some joke about how he guessed it was good Gil didn’t work narcotics or who knew what else he might be given the opportunity to say. Both of them knew what Malcolm had said was true, that it even went deeper than that, but he just couldn’t bring himself to be that vulnerable. Even when Malcolm saw the veiled disappointment in Gil’s eyes as he told him he’d give him a ride home.

He should have said it to him. He should have told Gil that he saved his life. It was all true. And he should have told Ainsely how much he loved her and how she was his best friend. He should have told his mother how he had always admired her strength. He should have drank more tea with Dani, tagged along with JT to a baseball game, talked to Edrisa over library books. Maybe even told his father every single thing he had ever felt about him. 

Mostly he wanted to tell Gil how sorry he was. For so many things.  


But there was nothing to be done now.

So Malcolm just remained in the dark. 

Until voices started flickering in.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well I guess this is three chapters now because I can't shut up when I write. Last chapter will be more like an epilogue-ish thing and the beginning is already done so hopefully I'll post it soon. Thanks for the wonderful response to chapter one and I hope you all enjoy the continuation!

“Do you have any idea what they gave him?”

“I’m sure the doctor mentioned it, but it probably had too many syllables for me to process. And there were...more important things to pay attention to.”

“But does he have to be sedated? Last time he was in the hospital he told me he can’t be sedated. It traps him in his nightmares.”

“I’m sorry, ‘’last time''?” 

“You didn’t tell her?”

“Jessica, he was fine. It was just a snake bite-”

“A snake!?”

Malcolm blinked again. He recognized the voices right away...his sister, Gil, his mother. They all sounded exhausted, their conversation heavy with barely concealed sorrow. Somehow he could understand the words, but when trying to string them together, they meant nothing. His confusion only grew. 

Was he hearing things now? Was this part of the purgatory he was in? Fated to hear the voices of those he loved the most, unable to respond to or even understand them?

Malcolm thought being alone with his mind for eternity would be torture enough, but this just rubbed salt in the wounds. He felt so overwhelmed, so terrified. He tried to speak but nothing came out, not even cries. 

“Jessica, that isn’t important right now.”

“I’m sorry Gil, would you rather turn the discussion back to the CURRENT situation in which you put my son ‘s life in danger? Because I’m happy to talk about that.”

“Guys, stop it.”

They were upset. Why were they so upset? Malcolm hated hearing them fight like that. He just wanted them to stop it. He’d rather be back in that oppressive silence. 

“Ainsley, why don’t you go drop your bags off at your apartment? I’ll call Adolfo and he’ll bring the car over. You look exhausted.”

“Have you looked in the mirror?” 

Malcolm’s head started pounding. There was a light now, just a speck in the corner of the darkness, but he felt as though he was starting at a solar eclipse. He shut his eyes against it but somehow it just got bigger and bigger the more he tried to blink it away. 

He suddenly became aware of his right arm. Something was tugging against it. Was it his restraints? Had this all just been some twisted nightmare? It didn’t feel like his restraints. It wasn’t heavy and the pressure wasn’t on his wrist. It was more like a small, piercing sensation, higher up his forearm. Malcolm didn’t know how long he had been in this trance, desperate to feel something physical, but now that it was occuring he felt even more terrified. He began feeling everything, each new sensation oppressive and uncomfortable. It was like someone was pulling him up from the bottom of the ocean, his mouth still open as the pressure forced water down his throat.

“Jessica, Ainsely, look!”

Malcolm gasped. The light was everywhere now, only it wasn’t as blinding as before. It was fading into other colors, other shapes. Something was in his nose, he felt air being forced through it. A steady beeping sound began, intertwining itself with the voices above. 

“Bright, kid, take a breath, it’s okay.”

“Malcolm, dear, can you hear us?”

“Mal, stop moving, I promise you’re safe.”

It was all coming too fast. Suddenly, there was pressure on both his arms. Malcolm tried to force himself up, tried to keep himself from going back under water. 

“Damn it, mom, go get a nurse!” 

The pressure intensified. And Malcolm just fought harder against it.

“This is why I said no sedatives. Did you even read what I texted you?”

“I was a little busy, Ainsley.”

“Malcolm...Mal? It’s Ainsley, it’s your sister. Just relax, please. We got you.”

His hadn’t felt his eyes close at any point during the ordeal, but suddenly what had been just color and light before became recognizable; the locks of blonde hair brushing against his face, ceiling tiles in the shape of diamonds, an arm wrapped in a brown jacket. 

The voices finally melded together with the faces above him. It really was Gil and Ainsley. 

Malcolm didn’t know why he stopped moving. Maybe it was the comfort in finally being able to see something again. Maybe it was how exhausted he felt, how tight his chest had become. Maybe he just needed his full energy to process what was going on. He just looked up, eyes darting back and forth between the two figures above him.

He watched his sisters expression go from fear and frustration to desperate relief instantaneously. She laughed and gasped in one breath. Her hand cardered through her disheveled hair. 

Gil stood directly across from her, looking slightly more composed, but that wasn’t saying much. The man was clearly on the verge of tears and his mouth still quivered. In one swift motion, he brought his hand up to his chest and did the sign of the cross, relief slowly coming to his eyes. 

“Oh thank God. You’re okay.” He said this with a watery laugh, his head bouncing back and forth between Malcolm and Ainsley. “He woke up. He’s okay.”

Ainsley leaned down to put a hand on his cheek. The warmth of her skin overwhelmed Malcolm, sending shock waves throughout his body.

“Welcome back. We missed you.”

Malcolm’s mind had slowed down, but her touch suddenly sent it back in to overdrive. This wasn’t real, this couldn’t be real. He was dead, he remembered dying. This was just his horrible, messed up mind playing tricks on him, or maybe it was the actual Devil tormenting him with false hope. But they weren’t real. 

“Malcolm, don’t cry.” He felt his sisters hand move down, wiping away the tears that were suddenly streaming down his face. Malcolm hadn’t even realized he was crying until she said something. “Gil’s here, mom is too, she just went to get a nurse. You’re in the hospital. It’s okay.” 

It wasn’t okay, why was she saying it was okay? He knew he wasn’t in the hospital because he was dead. He knew this wasn’t his real sister and mentor because he was gone so he couldn’t really be seeing them. A sob escaped his lips and Malcolm wanted nothing more than to go back to that quiet, black, void. He would happily take an eternity of that then even ten more minutes of this. He had accepted his fate, why taunt him more with visions of what he would never have again?

“No,” he choked out. “No, no, no.” He squeezed his eyes shut again, so tightly he thought the pressure would cause brain would burst. “You’re not real.”

Ainsley looked over to Gil, confusion turning to dread on her face. She rubbed her thumb across his cheekbone. “Mal, it’s-”

“Stop it! Stop it, don’t touch me.” He jerked his head to the side until he no longer felt the weight of her palm. “Please, go away. I’ll do anything else.”

“Kid, hey, hey, look at me.” Malcolm refused, trying to bury his face in his own shoulder. The older man sighed, then snapped his head up. His tone quickly shifted from the worried quiver it had been, to the commanding voice he normally used. “Ainsley, go find your mom and that nurse. Now.” 

Malcolm heard footsteps and a door closing. He couldn’t bring himself to open his eyes, but the tears still forced their way out somehow. 

“I’m dead, I’m dead.” It was all he could mumble to himself. He had to remember that. If he left himself be convinced, even for a moment, that this was real, it would be all the more painful when it was inevitably torn away. 

Before he could even begin to organize his thoughts, he felt Gil’s arms wrap around him. If Ainsely’s hand on his face had made him cry, the sudden contact with skin and fabric caused him to bawl. Why did it have to be so real? 

“Malcolm, you need to open your eyes.”

One arm was wrapped around his shoulder, while the other had gone up to his head. He felt a hand run through his hair. Gil’s voice became softer. “You’re okay, kid. I promise. You’re safe and you’re alive.” His hand moved up from Malcolm’s shoulder to the back of his neck, which he gave a gentle squeeze. Gil had two decades of experience calming Malcolm down, whether from a night terror or a panic attack or just when he was particularly guilty or scared, and he repeated the motions like it was second nature.

Malcolm found himself unconsciously relaxing into the older man's touch. He tried to fight against this instinct; he still didn’t think this was actually real and he didn’t want to give in to the delusion. But he couldn’t help it. 

“I-no, I can’t…” It was all Malcolm could say, his tears making it impossible to finish his words. His thoughts were jumbled, part of him wanting desperately to believe Gil was telling the truth and the other screaming to get away from him before he humored the delusion any further. 

Dropping his hand from Malcolm’s hair, Gil picked up his arm as gently as he could, trying his best to not disrupt the IV or wires he was attached to, and guided his hand up and on to his chest. A hiss mixed with Malcolm’s sobs, the sudden pressure against his ribs sending sparks of pain throughout his whole body. Gil must have noticed, because Malcolm felt him lifting his wrist up more so his chest wasn’t supporting the entire weight of his hand.

“Can you feel that, Bright? Your heart is beating. You’re alive.”

Malcolm did feel it. The rhythm was quick, but steady. The thumping made his ribs hurt, but it was more a dull throb than anything else. He closed his eyes against the tears that were still falling and tried to focus on the repetitive sound and heavy feeling it made against his hand. Trying to picture his heart beating and sending blood throughout his exhausted body. Sending life through him.

He was alive. Somehow he had survived. The realization was filled with as much weight as it had been when he convinced himself he had died, and his exhaustion only grew. He felt a great sense of relief, but it was still tinted with how overwhelmed he was. He tried to slow his breathing, but he couldn’t bring the tears to stop. All he could do was focus on his heart, letting each beat remind him that he was okay. 

Gil must have realized something changed, because Malcolm felt the older man’s hand move back to his shoulder as he pulled him in for a hug. Malcolm buried his head in Gil’s chest until he could hear his heartbeat as well. Gil was real. He was real and Malcolm was alive.

Malcolm continued to sob, as Gil began rubbing his back as best he could while still keeping him on the bed. “I thought I was dead…” It was all he could get out at first, his throat beginning to protest its overuse, between the sobbing and choked out words. “It was so dark...I’m sorry…” He wasn’t even sure the older man could hear him, given he was speaking directly into his coat. 

“Don’t apologize kid. It doesn’t matter, all that matters is you’re safe.” 

Malcolm wanted to say more but his vocal chords were failing him and he was beginning to realize just how much his chest hurt. So he just allowed Gil to comfort him, letting his mind slow down for once and just feel the security and warmth he had felt when he first became aware. 

This time, in Gil’s arms.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who has read so far! This chapter is basically an epilogue/wrap up that became much longer than I expected lmao. Sorry for any medical inaccuracies, I tried to be vague so I didn't look too incompetent. Hope you all enjoy the final chapter, I'm really proud of how this story turned out.

The daisies sitting in front of Malcolm were almost offensively colorful. It was the kind of bouquet where the florist couldn’t be satisfied by the actual colors of the flowers and decided they needed to be enhanced with dye. But in the end, it just resulted in a product that hurt to look at. 

“It was either these or a hot pink balloon proclaiming: “It's a girl!” Dani commented as she plopped the vase down on the pull away table that had been set up over Malcolm’s bed in a, mostly failed, attempt to get him to eat something. “Besides, your apartment could really use a splash of color.” 

“It’s hilarious that you think our mom is ever gonna let Malcolm leave her house after this,” Ainsley quipped, not even looking up from her phone. “I’m surprised she left us alone for this long.” 

Malcolm ignored the comment, turning his attention back to the detective. “Daisies are typically considered to represent purity and innocence. Or naivety. Is this a veiled comment?”

“It represents the bodega by my apartment being chronically under-stocked.” She turned to Ainsely, who had set her phone down to roll her eyes at her brother. “Is he always on?”

“Do not answer that.” 

“Malcolm, I think you meant to say, “thank you for the flowers, Dani.”” Ainsley looked as if she was finished with that, but then she, not at all discreetly, leaned over the bed to mouth a “yes” to Dani. 

The two women began to laugh, the contagious sound forcing Malcolm to drop his offended expression and just smile at them. He couldn’t bring himself to be annoyed. He was too happy that he had the opportunity to be with the people he loved. 

Malcolm had finally been moved to the general wing of the hospital that morning, after spending a week in the ICU. Being here meant he was finally able to receive visitors who weren’t immediate family (or Gil, who Jessica had apparently told the hospital was Malcolm’s step father in a moment of panic when a receptionist asked what their relationship was, a detail Malcolm wasn’t going to dwell on; for a number of reasons). Of course, he had been asleep for the first three days of being in the hospital, before finally waking up in that terrified state, induced by painkillers, sedatives and his own damaged mind. 

Ainsley and his mother, along with a nurse and Malcolm’s primary doctor, had rushed into the room shortly after Gil had finally gotten him down from the state he was in. The doctor had a few curt words for Gil in regards to him moving Malcolm even slightly, but he seemed to understand the choice when Malcolm immediately tensed up after Gil let go of him. 

Still exhausted, Malcolm listened as Gil, doing his best to hide the tears in his eyes and the fear in his voice, recounted what had actually happened. As he went through the details of the case, more and more of Malcolm’s memories became clear, but he still allowed Gil to explain what they had been doing. He was supposed to stay with Gil while the two of them went to talk to a suspect, Dani and JT having left to go back to the crime scene, which was only a few blocks from the home. The suspects wife had told them he wasn’t there, but they were welcome to come speak to her until he got off work. Malcolm could tell by her nervous expression and the fact that she seemed out of breath that she was lying, and he quickly excused himself to go to the bathroom before slipping out the backdoor. 

Malcolm’s suspicions proved to be correct, as he rounded the alley only to see a hooded figure across the street holding a bundle (that Malcolm assumed contained the murder weapon) and rushing inside a condemned warehouse. He had decided to follow on his own, reasoning that going to get Gil would only give the man more time to somehow dispose of the gun, but also knowing the choice went deeper than that. Either way, Malcolm had quickly gotten lost in the dark space, until he finally found the suspect, who shot him to keep him from being able to say anything. 

Malcolm would have bled out on the floor if not for the fact that the man's wife had quickly broken down and told Gil her husband had committed the murder and that she sent him to go hide the weapon while she stalled. From there, it didn’t take long for him to figure out where he had headed. 

As Gil recalled finding him bleeding out on the ground, sparing the more gory details, either for his sake or for Malcolm’s, Malcolm felt his chest ache with guilt. He knew how worried Gil was for his safety and he felt horrible for putting him through all this because he was too stupid or too stubborn or too self sacrificing to get help when he needed it. The fact that this moment was also when Gil began to actually cry didn’t help either. Even though it was only a few seconds before the man composed himself and wiped away the remaining tears with a tissue, Malcolm still looked down, shame creeping into his expression. 

The doctor used that as a somewhat awkward transition to tell Malcolm more of the medical details. The bullet had badly damaged his right lung, resulting in massive blood loss and it had been touch and go for the first 24 hours. He’d undergone two surgeries while unconscious, as well as multiple blood transfusions, and they were still monitoring him closely for infection or breathing complications.

“So don’t expect to be leaving anytime soon,” Ainsley had teased, her and his mother now sitting down next to his bed, across from Gil. “I accidentally spilled the beans about the snake thing to mom, so sorry in advance if she takes over your power of attorney to keep you from going AMA.” 

Malcolm forced a faux look of offense on his face, but it was undermined by the fact that his eyes were still wet with tears and just how exhausted he looked in general. After checking Malcolm’s surgical incisions and performing a basic neurological exam, the doctor mentioned getting him something to help him rest to the nurse, but Malcolm immediately shook his head, some tears beginning to fall again. Despite how tired he genuinely felt, the very idea of falling back asleep filled him with so much anxiety, there was a visible uptick on his heart monitor. Gil squeezed his hand, sensing the panic Malcolm was feeling. He was almost embarrassed at his reaction, but the feelings of helplessness and terror were still so raw, he couldn’t help it. 

Ainsley interjected; “No, no sedatives, please. He has night terrors and it’s just...not a good match. I’m his emergency contact, but I was out of town for my job and was only able to fly back this morning because of flight delays...unless it’s medically necessary, he doesn’t need them...”

Malcolm shot her a grateful look. He really didn’t want to have to explain the situation, although hearing it from another person didn’t make him feel any less self conscious about his mental state. He tried to regulate his breathing by focusing on Gil, who had began rubbing his thumb over Malcolm’s outstretched palm.

The doctor nodded. “We had to keep you sedated while you intubated, but, since we took you off the ventilator this morning, we don’t have to continue with it if that’s what you’d prefer. Still, I would recommend trying to get some rest on your own. You’re going to need the strength for the recovery ahead of you.” 

After promising to be back soon to perform a more thorough examination, the doctor and nurse exited the room, leaving Malcolm alone to apologize for scaring everyone. 

“Don’t worry about it, kid,” Gil replied, moving his hand up to pat Malcolm’s shoulder. “We’re just glad you’re safe.”

And Malcolm let himself sink into that feeling of security. He didn’t try to convince everyone he was okay, argue that he should be able to leave the hospital, or even try to hide how tired he was. The entire experience had really shaken him to his core, and all he wanted to do was be around his family and friends, around reminders that he was not just alive, but safe and loved. 

That didn’t mean the past week had been an easy one; his doctor hadn’t been lying about the difficult recovery ahead. Between the pain, exhaustion, and just how hospitals made him feel in general, Malcolm wasn’t exactly in the best place mentally. But his mother, sister, and Gil had all been so supportive. His mother tried to distract him by talking about all the latest gossip in her social circle, which was actually somewhat entertaining, if only for the fact that her tendency to exaggerate made for some interesting stories. Ainsley cheered him on when he was helped out of bed for the first time, only to become too winded to move further before he had made it even halfway to the other side of the room. Gil had stayed up with him every night when he finally let himself go to sleep, the older man running his fingers comfortingly through Malcolm’s hair as he whispered that he would be right beside him. 

And now, Dani had brought him flowers. As well as a card that Edrisa had made and gotten everyone in the precinct to sign, including JT, who had written a small “thank you for not dying, you don’t know how much paperwork is involved when a consultant gets killed on the job” above his signature. Dani had mentioned the two of them would stop by after they finished up the case the team had been working on. 

“I’m surprised you haven’t busted out of here yet,” Dani continued, breaking the comfortable silence that had settled over the three of them. “This must be some kind of record for you. How long did you stay in the hospital after being bitten by an extremely venomous snake again? Six hours?”

“If only that was the shortest time it took Malcolm to sign out against medical advice,” Ainsely replied, turning towards her brother. “I still haven’t forgiven you for making me drive four hours to DC in a thunderstorm only to find out you had left the hospital thirty minutes before I arrived.”

“I didn’t make you do anything; you’re the one that insisted on being my emergency contact, and I wasn’t hurt that badly!” 

“I know you believe that, but I also need you to realize the phrase “the knife missed all my major organs” is not the reassurance you think it is.” 

This caused Dani to laugh again, clearly filing away the story for future use. Malcolm began forming a retort, probably involving one of Ainsley’s embarrassing exes from high school, when Gil and his mother walked into the room. Malcolm had convinced them earlier to actually go home and get some rest now that he was out of the ICU, but it was clear they had no intention of staying away for long.

“Powell, I didn’t know you were coming today,” Gil said, nodding his head to the detective, who had moved to sit on the edge of Malcolm’s bed. 

“Bright called me a few hours ago. Something about being tortured by an overbearing cop who tells way too many stories involving what the NYPD was like “back in the day” and needing someone to come get him out of here.” 

“I don’t know who that could possibly be referring to.”

Dani smiled. “It’s good to see you both again. Not having the two of you at the station is horrible. JT seems to think he is in charge while you’re gone and Edrisa is somehow even more awkward at crime scenes without someone to bounce her morbid factoids off of.” She stood up from the bed, going up towards Malcolm so she could face him and pat his shoulder. “Get better soon. And next time, don’t chase a murder suspect into an abandoned warehouse on your own.” Her lighter tone became more serious as she continued. “I don’t want to lose you, got it?”

Malcolm nodded. He had tried to apologize to Dani for being so reckless when she had first arrived, but, like everyone else, she immediately shut him down, telling him there wasn’t anything to apologize for. But Malcolm knew how much worry he had caused everyone, and it was still eating away at him. 

After saying goodbye to Gil, Ainsley, and Jessica, Dani headed out, telling Malcolm she’d be back tomorrow and getting Ainsley to promise to text her updates on her brother. After she left, Ainsley stood up from her chair and stretched, before walking over to their mother. 

“I see you two didn’t even bring dinner. I have to be responsible for everything, don’t I?” She grabbed Jessica’s hand. “Come on mom, you’re paying.”

Jessica hesitated, her gaze on Malcolm becoming heavier. He knew how hard she was taking this situation; he overheard her quietly arguing with Gil about how she didn’t want Malcolm to keep this job while he was supposed to be asleep. Gil had managed to appease her, but he could still hear how terrified she sounded. Even so, she nodded to Ainsley. “Alright, as long as Gil stays. Malcolm, I expect you to eat something when we get back.” 

Malcolm mumbled a promise and the two of them left as well, leaving only him and Gil, who made his way over to bed. He looked at the flowers on Malcolm’s bed tray as if noticing them for the first time.

“I’m guessing these aren’t from JT?”

Malcolm smiled, shaking his head. “Dani brought them. I guess it’s as good a gift as any. I don’t think Hallmark makes “Sorry You Were Shot Because You Didn’t Follow Police Protocol” cards.”

Gil chuckled a bit at Malcolm’s response, as he moved the flowers from the bed tray to the bedside table. “At least it brightens up the place. Starting to think whoever designs hospital rooms wants them to look as depressing as possible on purpose.”

Malcolm mumbled an agreement as Gil took a seat beside his bed. He knew what question was coming next. 

“How you feeling, kid?” 

Malcolm squirmed a bit in the bed. “My chest hurts, but it’s not as bad as it has been.” He glanced around the room, scrunching his nose. “And I’m glad to finally be out of the ICU.” 

Gil nodded, looking around the room himself, as if trying to find something else to talk about. Malcolm knew he was still thinking about the day he first woke up. Neither of them had really talked about what had happened, and although Ainsley and Jessica had been fine with moving past it, Malcolm could tell Gil wanted to bring it up and only wasn’t because he was worried about upsetting him. If Malcolm was being honest, talking about it would upset him. But so would not talking about it. The experience still weighed heavy on him, and he needed someone to help him carry it. 

“I’m sorry-”

“Bright, how many times do we have to tell you to stop apologizing?”

“Well I’d say sorry for not stopping saying sorry, but I don’t think that’s what you want to hear?” Malcolm chuckled slightly, his chest tightening in protest. He wasn’t lying to Gil; he was still in a fair amount of pain. Although he imagined most people didn’t feel great a week after being shot. “This entire experience has just been...so much. Sometimes I still can’t believe I’m actually alive. Like a part of me is still stuck believing I actually died.” He chuckled again, wheezing a bit this time from the tension in his lungs. Malcolm ignored it; he just needed to inject some levity into the words he was saying.

“Bright, why didn’t you tell someone you were still feeling like that?” Gil leaned forward, picking up Malcolm’s hand and squeezing it. Malcolm could see the sadness and fear in his eyes and he immediately felt guilty for even bringing up the subject. The man had enough to deal with without Malcolm adding on even more of his emotional baggage. 

“It’s not a big deal. I don’t even know why I brought it up…” Malcolm looked down again, his cheeks growing warm. He hated how scared he still was; that even with Gil sitting right beside him, every time he closed his eyes to sleep a part of him was convinced he’d never open them again. It had been a week, he knew he was alive, he knew everything and everyone around him was real, he knew that medically he was out of danger. But he couldn’t help feeling slightly on edge, like he still had one foot in the grave and something was just waiting to pull him down the rest of the way. 

“Should I tell your mother to call Gabrielle? I’m sure she wouldn’t mind coming to talk to you here.”

“No, I don’t...I just…” Malcolm trailed off, feeling tears well up in his eyes. He didn’t know why he was suddenly getting so emotional. Maybe it was seeing Dani again, seeing that there were people outside of his family who cared about him. Maybe it was being out of the ICU, realizing he most likely wouldn’t have any life threatening complications from what happened. Maybe it was just actually being alone with Gil, when his mother or sister were usually always hovering around. For whatever reason, the tears began to fall, and fall quickly.

“Kid, hey, talk to me.” Gil grabbed a box of tissues from the bedside table and held them out for Malcolm. He quickly took a handful, trying to dry his eyes. It proved to be fairly pointless, as he just kept crying each time he thought he had finally wiped away all the tears. His sobs were getting stronger and the pressure that came with them made his chest hurt even more. Malcolm tried to steady his breathing. He didn’t want to risk a lecture from his doctor about how he shouldn’t be straining his lungs. 

“I...I didn’t want to die Gil…” It was all Malcolm could get out at first. He slowly looked up as he said it, focusing his eyes on his mentors face. The older man still looked so worried. “When I woke up and thought I was dead...I was so sad and so scared...and I didn’t get it. For so long I thought I wanted to die. Or I didn’t care if I did. I think part of me ran after the suspect because I knew he could hurt me and I wanted him too.”

Malcolm took another shaky breath, trying to gauge how Gil was reacting. The older man knew he had struggled with suicidal thoughts and he obviously knew about the attempt he made as a teen, but saying this out loud still made Malcolm want to shrink into himself and disappear. Now, Gil just looked worried, but he didn’t interrupt him. “But then when I woke up and I thought he had killed me, I didn’t feel relieved. I just regretted everything. And when I saw you and mother and Ainsley...it was even worse. I realized how horrible it would be if I didn’t have you guys. I don’t always...I feel lonely a lot. But I’m trying to remember that I have you. And Ainsley, and my mother, and Dani and Edrisa and JT...And when I thought I lost you all...I couldn’t handle it.” 

Malcolm lowered his voice, his eyes flickering down from Gil’s face and back to his lap.  
He was getting too choked up, quickly exhausting himself from crying, but he knew he needed to say just one more thing. “I love you, Gil. And I know you don’t want me to apologize for what happened, so I won’t. But I do want to say thank you. For everything you did for me as a kid, for everything you’re doing for me now, for pulling me back to reality after I woke up. I don’t say thank you enough...” 

After a long pause, Malcolm laughed some more, trying to hide how red his cheeks had gotten and the fact that he still wasn’t meeting Gil’s gaze. “Wow, that was a lot....blame the near death experience I guess? I promise I won’t always be this sentimental now.”

Before he could continue, Malcolm felt Gil wrap his arms around him. The older man pulled him over until he was practically falling off the bed edge and Malcolm instinctively buried his face in the crook of Gil’s neck. After this, he was beyond the point of embarrassment and he let the tears fall freely. 

Gil rubbed the back of Malcolm’s neck and Malcolm leaned into the touch, remembering how Gil had always done the same thing when he was a kid. “I love you too, Bright...Malcolm. I love you so much. You don’t have to figure out all your emotions now. I’m just glad you’re alive and safe.”

Malcolm nodded, although he couldn’t move much while in Gil’s embrace. He let himself take in the warmth of Gil’s hug, like he had when the man held him after he first woke up. Finally, Malcolm broke away, grabbing the box of tissues and wiping his tears as he settled back on the pillow.

“I know you’re never going to stop running into danger,” Gil laughed, after a moment of comfortable silence. “Even as a kid, I remember how you always wanted to just go up to the suspect's house during stakeouts. But I’m glad you seem to be reconsidering the strategy of following armed murder suspects into abandoned buildings without telling your team where you’re going. You’ll be sparing me a lot of grey hairs.”

Malcolm smiled softly, glad that Gil had let him unload how he was feeling without rushing him in examining those emotions. He knew there was a lot he would have to think about. He’d have to make an appointment with Gabrielle, maybe not while he was still in the hospital, but soon. And he knew he wanted to tell everyone else in his life that he cares about how much they mean to him and thank them for everything they’d done for him. 

But for now, Malcolm was just tired; physically and mentally. He knew his mother and sister would be back with food soon, but he still wasn’t feeling hungry and he knew none of them would blame him for wanting to get some rest. Gil must have noticed Malcolm relaxing more against the pillow, because he pulled the blanket up over his arms and under his chin, tucking him in just like he had done so many times when he was a kid. 

“Thank you, Gil.” Malcolm repeated, eyes already beginning to close. 

Gil squeezed his neck a final time. “Get some rest, kid. I’ll be right here. I promise, I won’t leave you.” 

Malcolm knew Gil was telling the truth. And he allowed those feelings- of acceptance, of safety, of love- lead him into a peaceful sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Check out my tumblr @malclombright, I post my subpar Prodigal Son gifs there (and if any of you are reading Bring Him Home, chapter two should be posted tomorrow night :)

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Again, final chapter should be up soon, I'm about to be on winter break and already have two other WIPs for this show lol. Please hit me up on tumblr @ merryandmalcolmbright (yes that is my holiday url) if you wanna talk about this show because I will Cry.


End file.
